


Sunday Morning

by platypus (kite)



Series: handy and rose being domestic [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, PWP, Smut, Waffles, handy and rose being domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kite/pseuds/platypus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose try something new. In bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there's enough het anal sex fic out there, and I got tired of what few stories there were making the whole thing sound painful, bloody, and generally not fun. So this happened.

The flat was silent but for a faint stuttering trill of birdsong outside, and Rose squinted at the clock – eight in the morning, entirely too early for a Sunday. The other side of the bed was empty, the pillow cool. Lazy mornings were Rose's favourite part of the weekend, and she saw absolutely no reason to have breakfast before noon, but her new, new, new Doctor said he still didn't need as much sleep as an ordinary human. She didn't mind, since his early mornings often meant he'd come back to bed when he got tired of waiting for her to wake up on her own; in fact, she'd been dreaming of just that, and it was a little disappointing to find reality hadn't caught up yet. Maybe, she thought, she'd just have to hurry it along. 

Pulling on her satin dressing gown, she padded barefoot to the bedroom door, peering out to see the Doctor sprawled in his favourite chair by the living room window. He wore nothing but a pair of burgundy boxer shorts, and her chest tightened at the sight of him, his hair rumpled with sleep, chewing on the end of a pencil and reading the _Sunday Times_. Probably a gossip column. Rose had found him shy about some of the personality traits he'd picked up during the metacrisis, though she privately thought that his increased emotional candour more than made up for an occasional taste for reality television. 

A squeak of the door hinge gave away her presence, and the Doctor looked up with a smile that warmed her through. Four months, and he still lit up when he saw her. She was pretty sure she lit up right back, though she tried to school her silly grin into something a little more seductive. As she came into the living room, he glanced down and flipped the paper to a sudoku puzzle, hastily pencilling in a few squares. "The Super Fiendish puzzles aren't hard enough, Rose," he said plaintively. "It's never the same once you've played in hexadecimal." 

She sat on the arm of the chair and slipped his glasses off, leaning across him to lay them on the side table; he set aside the paper and met her halfway, his lips curving as he kissed her back. "Good morning," he said. "I was going to wake you when I finished the paper. What do you think about waffles?"

"Round, tasty, good with syrup. I don't think we have any." He looked so disappointed that she had to kiss him again, and then the subject was abandoned entirely as he buried his hands in her hair and his mouth opened under hers, lips soft, tongues brushing. 

She threw a leg over his thighs and straddled him, rising onto her knees; he nuzzled at the dressing gown where it clung to her breast, flicking over her nipple until it crinkled and stood erect, the sleek satin rasping against her sensitive skin. She was trying to decide whether they should continue right here or try to make their way to the bedroom when his hands slid down over her bum, squeezing her buttocks and then cautiously, deliberately laying a finger between them. 

She drew a startled breath, and the Doctor quirked an eyebrow. "Want to try something new?" he asked.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

He stroked her lightly through the satin. "I... well, yes. But not if you don't want to." 

The outline of his erection, barely obscured by the thin cloth of his boxers, suggested he was more eager than he was letting on, and arousal flared sharply in her stomach. "Maybe," she said, dropping a hand to stroke him, feeling him strain towards her. 

Enlightenment dawned all at once on his face. "When I said 'new,' I didn't mean... you've never...?" 

"No," she admitted. "Mickey wanted to try once, but we didn't get anywhere. We were both too pissed. I'm not sure he even remembered it the next morning." She eyed him. "But you have, yeah?"

"Not in this body," he said, which wasn't exactly an answer but still told her everything she needed to know. 

Almost. The past few months had also taught her the value of clarification. "By which you mean yes? And," she added hopefully, "you're very good at it?"

"Precisely," he said, with one of those infectious grins. He tugged at the tie of her dressing gown. "Want to go back to bed?"

* * *

Her dressing gown ended up on the living room floor and his boxers in the doorway to the bathroom, where he'd detoured for a bottle of lubricant. It was a new brand, an extra-thick gel they hadn't had the opportunity to try yet; Rose wondered briefly if he'd been planning this when he suggested they buy it, but decided she didn't really care.

Tossing the bottle in the general direction of the bed, the Doctor wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with sloppy enthusiasm and urging her backward until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She lay back and drew him over her, but he gently pushed her onto her side and spooned behind her instead, trailing kisses over her cheek and neck and shoulder. His cock was trapped between them, pressing hot and hard against her arse; she knew he wouldn't do anything until she was ready, but nervous excitement thrummed through her at the thought of what was going to happen later. 

For now, though, his hand merely drifted down her stomach, then between her legs, playing with the curly hair there. She bent and lifted her knee to give him better access, and he took the hint, running his fingers up and down and then between her folds, gliding in the wetness that had already gathered. He hummed his approval and deftly stroked her, skimming her entrance without going in, circling up near her clit but never quite reaching it. She found herself tensing with anticipation each time he got close, and resisted the urge to grab his hand and put it where she wanted it. 

Another quick tease, and a small noise of frustration finally escaped her; as if that were all he'd been waiting for, the Doctor dipped his fingers inside her at last, swirling briefly to wet them before moving upward. His first slick touch on her clit made her hips jerk, and he held her tighter, rubbing in the slow circular motion she liked. She started to moan, rocking, and he rocked with her, his cock slippery with sweat or his own fluid as it slid against her arse. Heat gathered irresistibly in her pelvis, concentrating under his steadily moving hand, and she squeezed her thighs together as she felt her climax approaching. She had just arched her back, panting, ready to tip over the edge, when the Doctor abruptly stopped, yanking his hand away despite her cry of protest. "Wait, wait," he gasped. "Any more and I'll come." 

"So will I," she groaned, thumping her head back against his chest. "I was _right there_." 

"Sorry," he said a trifle sheepishly, peeling away from her, sweaty skin from sweaty skin. 

She flopped to her back. "Make it up to me?" 

He grinned and propped himself up on his elbow, reaching back between her legs; finding her clit again, he delicately rolled a moist fingertip over it. She bit her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin. "Do you really want to come now?" he asked, his voice gone husky. "What about later? Or can't you wait that long?" 

"Now," she said, teeth clenched. "Please." Despite his teasing, he didn't hesitate; he placed a finger on either side of her clit, knowing she'd be too sensitive for any more direct stimulation, and immediately began to rub in earnest, slow and hard, as if massaging muscles deep beneath the skin. The pleasure swiftly built again and she let go, knowing he wouldn't stop her this time. It didn't take long. "Doctor – _now_ ," she gasped, an instant before her orgasm crested and exploded through her, and he plunged his fingers inside her in time for the first spasm to tighten around them. The heel of his hand ground firmly over her clit and she didn't even try to hold back her cries, bucking against him, coming in hard shudders until she started to tremble and the Doctor eased up, coaxing out a last few pulses as he brought her down. 

"Good?" he asked unnecessarily, a smile in his voice.

She groaned. "You could say that." 

"Still want more?" He sounded deceptively casual, and Rose pried her eyes open, looking over to see that he was still hard. Very hard. His cock was flushed dark with arousal, so erect it was almost touching his belly, a bead of fluid forming at the tip. A shiver of renewed desire sparked through her. 

"Yeah," she said, a little hoarsely. "I think I do."

The Doctor retrieved the bottle of lubricant and flipped open the cap, squeezing out a thick drop and sniffing it curiously. Under her wry gaze, he did not attempt to taste it. "Well?" she asked.

"I think it'll work," he said thoughtfully, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. "Ooh. Slippery." She laughed, but her amusement quickly faded into awkwardness: how were they going to start this? "Turn around," he said softly, and she shifted onto her side again, facing away from him. The mattress dipped as he lay behind her and fussed with something, and then he lowered his hand to her backside, tracing her curves with a knuckle. Holding his lubricated finger away from her, she realised. "We'll go slow," he murmured, waiting for her nod, and then his wet finger was between her buttocks, touching her gently where he never had before. 

Rose felt her face grow hot as she tried not to squirm. They'd been intimate a hundred times, and neither of them had anything to be ashamed of. Certainly, nothing in his touch suggested that he found this part of her distasteful. He stroked her opening lightly, then set the pad of his finger there, massaging the lubricant into her skin. He made no attempt to enter her, simply caressing that small spot as if it were all he intended to do, and gradually the intimacy of his touch became more arousing than embarrassing. He seemed to sense the shift; his finger grew heavier against her, ever so slowly, until her breath hitched as he began to overcome the resistance of her muscles. He drew back then, and she heard the cap of the bottle flip open. A moment later, two thickly lubricated fingertips nudged between her cheeks, spreading the gel liberally, and his index finger came to rest at her opening again. This was it, she thought; tension surged through her body and faded. The Doctor's finger wriggled slightly, then found what it sought and pushed forward. Slender and well-lubricated, it went in more easily than she had expected. "Okay?" he asked softly, pausing just inside.

"Yeah," she said, surprised at how light and shaky it came out. The sensation was strange, but not uncomfortable. She tried to imagine the much larger shaft of his cock there instead, and clamped down despite her effort not to; the Doctor remained perfectly still, patient, waiting until the tension passed. Afterward, he slid his finger back a bit before easing it deeper. When she stayed relaxed he continued, slow and steady, until it was buried completely inside her. 

He stilled for a moment, kissing behind her ear. "Let me know if this doesn't feel good," he murmured, pulling out just as carefully as he had entered her. He withdrew most of the way, then added more lubricant before sliding back in. The next stroke was more confident, and he repeated it, smooth and unhurried. 

Rose closed her eyes, aware of nothing but the gentle pressure within her and then the stretch as, with agonising slowness, he inserted a second finger alongside the first. She moaned at the faint burn of it, a complex sensation just short of pain. "It's good," she assured him hastily when he hesitated, and it was, the discomfort lost in pleasure as he cautiously started to move again. He rocked his fingers, letting her become accustomed to the feeling before building up to short, rhythmic thrusts. 

"More?" he asked, hot against her ear, and her shuddering moan seemed answer enough. She felt strangely empty when he withdrew, and looked over her shoulder to see him squeezing a generous amount of lubricant into his palm and spreading it over his cock. He gave himself one long stroke as she watched, his fist twisting as it reached the end; aware of her scrutiny, he raised his eyes to hers, dark and intense. Before he could say anything, she bent at the waist, pressing her arse closer to him. His hand tightened on his cock, then let go of it quickly. 

"This will be over far too soon if you keep that up," he muttered, manoeuvring up close behind her. He gently spread her buttocks, and then she felt the head of his cock between them, warm and very slick. He smoothed a sweaty strand of hair away from her face. "Ready?"

Rose nodded, not trusting her voice, and felt him position himself. After a brief hesitation – her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it – he began to push. The rounded head was so thick and blunt that it seemed like it would never work, even as slippery as he was, as much as she was trying to relax and let him in. The pressure grew firmer, more insistent, and then she gasped as her muscles started to give. He paused, murmuring something soothing and indistinct. She took a deep breath and let it out, consciously relaxing as she exhaled; the pressure behind her resumed, sure and steady, and this time when she began to open to him he kept going. She felt stretched to her limit as the head of his cock entered her, and he stopped there, his breathing as hard as hers. "Rose?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Oh, God," she managed. "I'm okay. That's..." He seemed huge, thicker and harder and hotter than he'd ever been. It wasn't comfortable but there was something terribly exciting about it, a fluttery nervous pleasure she had never experienced before. "I think," she said, and had to swallow, her throat dry. "I think you can keep going."

He braced her with a hand on her hip, and pushed deeper; it seemed easier now that he was already partway in. Sooner than she expected, she felt his coarse pubic hair against her backside and he was in, God, all of him, shockingly intimate and almost too much to take. 

"You're so tight," he whispered, pressing his stubble-rough chin into her shoulder. "I'm not sure I can—" He shuddered and clutched her to him, going very still. They stayed like that for a while, as he fractionally relaxed and she got used to the size of him. By the time he let out a sigh and stroked her hip, indicating he was ready to continue, she was, too. 

She gave her hips a tiny, experimental arch. "Hard to move this way." 

"Don't think I'll need to move much," he said, strained. With exquisite care, he shifted and drew himself out no more than an inch, pushing right back into her with a gratifyingly needy sound. The movement brought her nerves alive again, hot and intense, and she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a cry. He slipped his hand between her thighs and cupped her mons, pressing this way and that until he hit the right spot and she gasped, her neglected clit pulsing to full attention. "Better?" he murmured. Without changing position at all, he rubbed a slow, familiar rhythm, and when she could no longer keep still he moved with her, thrusting shallowly, sliding that same inch of his length back and forth within her. After the first few strokes her body seemed to adjust to him, and before long he was grinding into her at the deepest point of each push, increasing the pressure of his hand. 

Rose stiffened, flexing involuntarily around him as she started to get close. "Don't stop," she said, and he didn't, probably couldn't. "Oh, God, Doctor, I think I'm going to—" 

"Yes," he whispered. "Oh, Rose, _yes_." And that was all she needed; one more thrust and she was coming, spasming so hard she lost the rhythm of their movements. She'd never been so keenly aware of the muscles that clutched around his cock, and the pleasure of the fullness there was overwhelming. The Doctor made a desperate little noise and began pulsing inside her, pumping his hips in tightly controlled motions instead of the deep thrusts he usually made when he came. Suddenly her tight passage was much wetter, and he dared a few longer strokes, moving in and out carefully until they both were finished. As soon as he began to soften he withdrew, collapsing next to her. 

Rose trembled with aftershocks, and even the Doctor seemed unsteady as he reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. The breeze from the open window was delicious on her bare skin, and she wondered vaguely if the neighbours had heard anything. It didn't seem important. She was utterly sated, content to lie still and let her mind drift. 

Eventually, the Doctor stretched. "Good?" he asked, with a hint of uncertainty. 

She laughed at the sheer inadequacy of that description, and touched his lips to forestall a mock-indignant protest. "It was fantastic, and you know it." 

He rolled over, resting his chin on her stomach, his stubble tickling her as he looked up with a brilliant smile. "How about breakfast?"

"Still up for waffles?" she said. "We could go out. I'd say you've earned it."


End file.
